


exhaustion in my bones, your lips on my neck

by selenedaydreams



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenedaydreams/pseuds/selenedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't die. She takes him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	exhaustion in my bones, your lips on my neck

**Author's Note:**

> Since I will forever be sad about the season 3 finale I decided to write a canon divergent fic where it was only Hive who got blown up in space while Lincoln stayed on Zephyr and he and Daisy are happy. So, basically this is a happy fic because we those right now.

Everything hurts.

There’s a slow fire burning beneath his skin making him want to crawl out it. All the while his head is still throbbing but Daisy’s hands, gentle when they peel off his clothes, are a soothing distraction from it all.

No one ever seems to tell you that when you feel like your body will collapse under its own weight, gentle hands help. And gentle eyes too, because Daisy is looking up at him like she can’t quite believe that he’s still here. That they’ve defied the odds.  

“I know you want to sleep but you have to shower.” She tells him, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist to support him while the other turns on the shower and adjusts the temperature of the water.

Lincoln leans heavily onto her, staining her clothes with his blood and whispering the words “I just want to be with you” into her ear. She still feels the effects of the blood loss, a bone deep exhausting kept at bay only by the sound of Lincoln’s voice. By the fact that he is _alive_. Alive and in her arms and she will move mountains to keep him there if she has to.

Despite everything, Lincoln still helps her undress. Removing her clothes with shaking hands and pressing his lips to the back of her neck before they travel down to her shoulder, paying special attention to a bruise that’s blooming there. They’re sloppy at best, more of a lingering press of lips than a kiss but that doesn’t make them any less perfect.

Under the spray of water, Daisy cradles his face in her hands while he holds onto to her waist for support.

“I love you.” She says, words half broken and filled with unshed tears and it occurs to her that this is the first time she’d said it but the millionth time that she’s felt it.

Lincoln smiles in relief, catching her lips in a kiss that tastes far too much of copper. Their foreheads press together when their lips part and he grips her waist just a little tighter before speaking. “I feel like I love you doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about you.”

There’s a sincerity to his words that shakes her to her very core because she believes him wholeheartedly. Every fiber of her being clings to that promise in order to will herself to draw back enough that she can run her fingers through his hair.

“Maybe you can show me later.” She smiles, dragging her hands down his body from his shoulders to his chest, being mindful of the gauze wrapped around his torso. Every inch of him is etched in her memory already but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want to double check. New scars form every day and as her fingers linger over the gauze, she knows this one won’t be pretty.

There’s an angry gash beneath the stark white, Daisy remembers vividly because she had to stare it at while Simmons sewed him up with the makeshift first aid kit they found stashed on Zephyr. Lincoln had gripped her hand with such fierce force and looked up at her like she was the only thing that could distract him from the pain.

Back at the base, Simmons insisted he take the strongest pain medication they had, pushing the bottle into his hands while reminding him that “you don’t have to be brave anymore.” Daisy wanted to laugh because she honestly isn’t sure if he’s capable of such a feat.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, thumbs rubbing circles into her hip.

“How reckless you are.” Any other time it might have sounded like a tease but she’s stone cold serious now and having a hard time taking her eyes off the bandages. They’re too clean, too perfect for what’s hidden beneath.

Lincoln’s fingers find their way underneath her chin, tilting her head up until their gazes meet and she’s face to face with unwavering guilt. He wants to apologize, she can tell, so she swallows his apology with a press of her lips because she can’t take his guilt anymore. It’s bad enough having to shoulder her own, that nagging ache in the pit of her stomach reminding her that she has hurt everyone she loves including him.

They’re pressed together now, lips moving with a furious kind of hunger because gentleness is what they need but passion is what they want. Daisy wants Lincoln’s fingers in her hair, on her waist, _inside of her._ She wants to feel him everywhere, wants to remember what it’s like to feel anything other than pain and guilt.

“What do you want?” He whispers against the shell of her ear before pressing his lips to her neck.

“You.” She gives the most cliché answer and yet the complete and utter truth. “I just want you to hold me. Please.”

Hunger turns to desperation because it occurs to her in that very moment that had things gone differently, had Lincoln remained on the quinjet she would have never felt his skin against hers ever again. She doesn’t want to think about that though, doesn’t want to imagine losing him ever again so she kisses his chest just above his heart and tells him:

“Just touch me.”

She can feel his smile against her skin as his fingers dip lower. While one hand continues to grip her waist, the other moves between her legs and it’s pure ecstasy. His lips find her neck again when she cranes her head back, chanting his name under her breath and clinging to him while his fingers move diligently inside her.

When she finishes, she reaches out for him, almost wrapping her fingers around him before Lincoln pushes her hand away.

“Maybe later.” He smiles softly before reaching for Daisy’s shampoo.

He’s gentle when he washes her hair, combing his fingers through the strands while she washes away the blood on his thighs. She’d almost forgotten too but when the water runs a faint red beneath their feet she is reminded of the way the way the blood soaked through his shirt as he pleaded with her not to sacrifice herself.

It’s funny and a little sad because when she looks up at him and kisses him one last time before turning off the water, she thinks it would be a pleasure to die for him. She wouldn’t mind dying for someone who feels like home.

Any other day she would hate to drip water onto the sheets and feel them clinging to her skin but Lincoln pushes her down onto the bed in nothing but the towel wrapped around her and she’s powerless against his kisses. She pulls the towel from around his waist and tugs him closer before they break apart because the angle at which he is kissing her cannot be comfortable.

Instead, Daisy makes room on the bed for him, taking off her own towel while he makes himself comfortable, or whatever version of not in pain that he can manage. They’re wrapped around each other again in an instant, Daisy’s head pillowed on his chest while his warms encircle her immediately.

“Maybe we should leave.” She suddenly tells him, voice thick with sleep and aspiration.

That thought has plagued her since the moment she was released from Hive’s sway. It’s ironic, really, to flee from a place you call home. Except that this doesn’t feel like home anymore, it’s a haunted ground of unbearable guilt that threatens to swallow her whole.

There’s a pause, a fraction of a second long enough for Lincoln to press his lips to the top of her head before whispering. “I would follow you anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @jiubilee.


End file.
